


Not Dying

by verhalen



Series: Seeds of Fire [5]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Flameborn Omegaverse, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Nerdanel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, C-Section, Childbirth, Fever Dreams, Finarfin/Cake OTP, Finwe's A+ Parenting, Finwë Is A Dick, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Fëanor, One Shot, Other, Smol Finarfin Is A Precious Cinnamon Roll, Stuffed Toys, Visions in dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: Fëanor gives birth to Maedhros.  Nerdanel panics, but Indis is there to help him get through, and smol, adorable Finarfin tries to make everyone feel better.
Relationships: Finarfin | Arafinwë & Nerdanel, Finwë/Indis/Míriel Þerindë | Míriel Serindë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Finarfin | Arafinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Indis, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Seeds of Fire [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1418458
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	Not Dying

As Fëanor's pregnancy wore on, Nerdanel found that he was even more... himself... when pregnant. More temperamental - argumentative, given to take offense at slights real or perceived. More affectionate, wanting to touch and be touched, held and be held. More insatiable, wanting sex as frequently as possible. And more creative, getting ideas at random times, consumed by his projects, holing up in his forge and losing track of time. Nerdanel would have to drag him out to make sure he ate or slept, and where that failed, lure him out by showing up bare-breasted, bending him over his anvil, carrying him out later.  
  
But at last, in the final days, Fëanor grew quiet, and took to bed, not feeling well. Nerdanel went to Mahtan and RAWR for advice, and Mahtan assured her, "Some Omegas get like this when they're getting closer to the due date."  
  
"BUILD HIM A NEST," RAWR suggested. "THAT WAS WHAT I DID FOR YOUR OMA."  
  
Nerdanel made a fortress of blankets and pillows for Fëanor, which at least provided him with some small comfort, where he produced less of that "distressed Omega" smell that was worrying her.  
  
And she had good reason to worry. She had learned Fëanor's mother, Miriel, died giving birth to him, which was no small part of why Finwë was so resentful of him. Finwë had given Fëanor that name, "Spirit of Fire", calling him a demon. And Fëanor, when he grew old enough, turned it around on his father, embracing the epithet as a smith. But Finwë's hatred of him still stung, and now that Fëanor was with child himself, he couldn't help wondering if he would face the same fate as his mother, the curse repeating itself. Nerdanel tried to be reassuring when Fëanor voiced these fears, but she herself wasn't nearly as sure as she sounded.  
  
Now, as the day drew nearer and Fëanor could feel it - retreating to the nest to rest and quiet to get ready - there seemed something in him like he was a prisoner awaiting execution, resigned to it. And that terrified Nerdanel. The thought of life without her mate...  
  
Mahtan and RAWR came by, as they did, and over tea RAWR asked, "HOW'S THAT NEST WORKING OUT?"  
  
Mahtan added, "He seems well-rested?"  
  
Nerdanel gave a thin smile. "Yes. Well-rested."  
  
RAWR raised an eyebrow, knowing when their daughter was dancing around an issue. "WHAT'S WRONG? OUT WITH IT, NOW."  
  
Nerdanel told them her concerns. RAWR and Mahtan gave her hugs, and when they departed for the evening Mahtan told her, "Don't worry. We'll figure something out."  
  
A couple of days later Indis arrived, with small Finarfin in tow.  
  
Nerdanel was surprised to see her mother-in-law. She didn't hate Indis the way she hated Finwë - Finwë was actively mean to Fëanor, while Indis just seemed withdrawn, ignoring him. But that was still enough to bother Nerdanel, enough for her to keep her distance from Indis, no warmth for her.  
  
"Indis? What are you doing here?" Nerdanel folded her arms. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I heard Fëanor is due anytime now," Indis said, and Nerdanel realized then Mahtan and RAWR had gone to say something to her. Before she could grumble under her breath about needing to have a few words with her parents, Indis went on, "I'm a midwife. I can potentially be of use."  
  
"All right." Nerdanel gestured. "Come in."  
  
It happened that Indis had arrived just at the right time - within a few hours of her showing up, Fëanor's water broke and the contractions started. Indis and the healer that Nerdanel had on-call went to the nest, while Nerdanel hovered a few feet away, biting her nails.  
  
"Breathe, Fëanor." Indis showed him how to breathe. "Breathe and push."  
  
But Maitimo was a big baby - Fëanor was swollen more than usual for a pregnancy - and it was determined that the child would have to be cut out of him. The healer and Indis prepared for surgery, and Nerdanel fainted.  
  
She came to in the greatroom. Mahtan and RAWR had come for the birth. As soon as Nerdanel woke up, she wanted to go right to Fëanor and RAWR held her back.  
  
"HE'S NERVOUS ENOUGH," RAWR said. "I CAN SMELL HIM. YOU BEING IN THERE WORRYING IS JUST GOING TO MAKE HIM EVEN MORE NERVOUS."  
  
"They're right," Mahtan said. "You should find some way to distract yourself in the meantime. Maybe sculpt?"  
  
Nerdanel laughed bitterly. "It would not be my best work, feeling like I am. All of that energy of panic would go into it, 'twould be fearsome things to see."  
  
Before Mahtan could give other suggestions, Finarfin walked into the greatroom in his sleep-clothes, yawning.  
  
"Ingoldo," Nerdanel scolded, "you are supposed to be in bed at this hour."  
  
"I can't sleep," Finarfin protested. "Something's wrong with Fëanor!" He scowled. "I wanna see my brother."  
  
"You can't right now, sweetheart." Nerdanel smoothed the silver-gold waves of hair.  
  
"I wanna see him. I wanna see him _now._ " Finarfin wriggled out of Nerdanel's grip.  
  
Nerdanel scooped up Finarfin and put him on her shoulders, piggyback style. She had figured out just the thing to help distract her - distract both of them. She started walking towards the kitchen.  
  
"Where are we going?" Finarfin asked. "Are you taking me to Fëanor?"  
  
"No," Nerdanel said.  
  
Finarfin tugged on her hair. "I wanna see my brother!"  
  
"You're going to help me with something," Nerdanel said, continuing to march to the kitchen. "Something that will help Fëanor feel better."  
  
Finarfin stopped tugging on her hair. "What?"  
  
"...Cake."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Nerdanel set out the ingredients to make a lemon cake, Fëanor's favorite. Finarfin was surprisingly obedient with following instructions, and two sets of hands working on different tasks made the preparation go faster.  
  
When Nerdanel had lined a cake pan, the bowl of batter sitting on the counter, and she checked to see if the oven was ready, she heard movement behind her, and turned around to see Finarfin stealing a spoonful of raw cake batter out of the bowl. He gave her a guilty look as he sucked on the spoon - getting a little batter on his face. With a chuckle, Nerdanel wiped his face and then wagged a finger at him.  
  
The cake was poured into the pan and put in the oven. "Now we wait," she said. "Help me clean up."  
  
Finarfin stood on a stool to assist Nerdanel at the sink. He kept glancing anxiously at the oven, and Nerdanel patted him. "It'll be awhile."  
  
"Do we get to have cake when it's ready?"  
  
"Of course. It's for Fëanor, but it's to share, too."  
  
Finarfin gave her a sad smile. "Father said there would be no more cake for a long time."  
  
Nerdanel remembered that from the wedding and cringed. "Well, we don't have to tell your father."  
  
"He didn't want us to come," Finarfin said. His voice lowered to a whisper. "He's really mad that Fëanor is having a baby."  
  
"I know." Nerdanel nodded and tousled his hair, feeling bad for Finarfin being caught in the crossfire. "It was good of your mother to come." She wondered how much hell Indis was going to get from Finwë for that.  
  
"I don't understand it," Finarfin said. "Babies are nice, right? They're like dolls, but they poop and stuff."  
  
Nerdanel couldn't help laughing. "Yes, sort of like that, Ingoldo."  
  
"And having one is going to make you happy, right? And Fëanor. It's going to make Fëanor happy."  
  
Nerdanel thought of the soft look on Fëanor's face when Nerdanel showed him the crib she'd made, the way Fëanor sang to the baby growing inside him. Apart from the moments of worry about going the same way as his mother, Fëanor had come to really embrace the idea of having a child. "Yes. Very happy."  
  
"Father should want Fëanor to be happy. He's our _father._ " Finarfin scowled.  
  
 _That's part of the problem. He's your_ father. _He won't allow himself to be your ana._ But Nerdanel did not say that out loud, only gave a small sigh and nodded in agreement.  
  
And then what came out of Finarfin's mouth next shocked her. "If having a baby makes Fëanor happy, I'll put a baby in him someday."  
  
Nerdanel's eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and all she could do was laugh.  
  
It was spoken innocently enough, but Nerdanel had heard things from her parents - that in the days of Endor, siblings had lain together with no shame, no guilt, it was only when they moved to Valinor and had to abide by the laws of the Valar that there was any prohibition there. It seemed to Nerdanel that many of the old ways of Endor were better, more natural - like having more than one lover. She could barely keep up with Fëanor's appetites on her own, and in any case the idea of being with only one person forever seemed strange, like only eating one type of food or listening to the same symphony for life. If Finarfin still felt that way when he was older, and it was something he and Fëanor both wanted, Nerdanel wouldn't stand in their way. But in the meantime Finarfin was still a child, and likely didn't understand what he was saying... Nerdanel patted his head.  
  
Finarfin seemed annoyed that Nerdanel found his declaration amusing rather than serious. He made a face like a pufferfish Nerdanel had once seen. "I will, I tell you!"  
  
Then Nerdanel sobered, remembering this was Finwë's child... Finwë who had not even told Fëanor about the mechanics of his biology, keeping him ignorant up until Fëanor's first heat, Finwë who was so outraged at Nerdanel getting Fëanor with child, so aghast at the small customs of Endor present at their wedding. If Finwë objected to even these things, such a statement from Finarfin would... Nerdanel shuddered. "Perhaps someday when you are grown," Nerdanel said. "But you must never speak of your plans to your father."  
  
"I don't talk to him much," Finarfin said. "He's always got a look on his face like this." He imitated Finwë's sour expression.  
  
Nerdanel laughed again, not able to help it - but also she felt for him even more now. She took him into her arms, and wished that he could come visit more, but doubtless Finwë would have a problem with it.  
  
Finarfin gave her a curious look then. "Nerdanel?"  
  
"Yes, Ingoldo."  
  
"How are babies made, anyway?"  
  
  
_  
  
  
Fëanor tried to stay awake for as long as possible during the delivery - afraid that if he closed his eyes, it would be for the last time. But the herbs were too strong, and he sank down into darkness, and then into fire. In the flames he saw his mother, Miriel.  
  
"Oma," he called out.  
  
He walked through the fire with her to a garden. He stood and watched as she danced with Finwë, then with a man who looked very like Finwë but even more beautiful, then with Indis. His mouth opened with shock as he saw Miriel and Indis kiss, like lovers, and each of them kissed not-Finwë in turn, and then Finwë kissed the man. There was laughter, and the scents of happy Alphas and Omegas as rich as the perfume of the garden itself.  
  
And then Miriel was beside him again, in the flames.  
  
"Oma," Fëanor called out to her once more.  
  
Miriel took him into her arms. He tried to push her back towards the garden - not used to seeing his father smile, and certainly not used to seeing his father _love_ \- and she got in his way.  
  
"You must go," Miriel said. "Where I am, you cannot come. Fight for your son. _Burn_ for your life, and his life, my child."  
  
And like that, Fëanor was dragged backwards through the flames - trying to resist, trying to get to his oma again, crying out, "No! Oma!"  
  
He woke with a gasp, to the strong screaming cry of Maitimo, to the weight of his child in his arms. He was indeed a very large boy, almost too heavy to hold when he was so exhausted.  
  
He was adorable, a tuft of copper hair on his head. Tears came to Fëanor's eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he kissed the damp brow, smoothed the little copper hair. "Why, hello there," he cooed. "Aren't you beautiful."  
  
"He is lovely."  
  
Fëanor looked up and saw Indis across the room, looking as drained as Fëanor felt. Indis gave him a tired smile. "You have made many beautiful things, Fëanor, but that is your finest work."  
  
Fëanor swallowed hard. Finwë had never had anything but faint praise for his crafts - if that, often resorting to some sort of criticism or outright ignoring him. Indis had kept her silence and Fëanor had assumed that she shared Finwë's opinions. But now to hear her say such a thing... "You... What. You really think my work is beautiful...?"  
  
Indis gave a deep sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She sat down beside Fëanor. She gave him a sad look - Fëanor saw her eyes were too bright, with unshed tears. Then she looked away, not at anything in particular - far away.  
  
"Your father," Indis said, "would not let me have anything to do with you. I _begged_ him. 'That boy needs a mother. He is just an innocent child. He did nothing wrong.' And it was always, 'Silence, woman, he is a demon.' I did not want to argue with him, make things even more tense... make him hurt even more. He still grieves for your mother all these years later. He is in so much pain, even now."  
  
"I'd feel sorrier for him if he wasn't such a miserable _arse_ to me." Fëanor glowered, and then he smiled at the face of his son, snuggling into him. Instinctively, Fëanor turned down the blanket and let the babe suckle.  
  
"I know." Their eyes met. Tears spilled silently down Indis's cheeks. "Please, _please_ forgive me, Fëanor. I knew you were hurting. I wanted so very badly to..." She couldn't finish the sentence, and started to sob.  
  
Fëanor reached across the bed to where Indis was sitting, and took her hand. Indis squeezed.  
  
"You came when you knew I needed a midwife," Fëanor said. "The surgery would have been a lot for the healer to handle."  
  
"I had to," Indis said. "And it was a lot more than you know. You lost a lot of blood. You were burning up with fever."  
  
" _Eru_ ," Fëanor said under his breath. Then he muttered, "No wonder I was seeing shit." At the watchful gaze of Indis, he quickly corrected himself. "Er, stuff."  
  
Indis rolled her eyes, but didn't take offense. Then she frowned. "What... were you seeing, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
"Oma," Fëanor said. "Miriel."  
  
Indis nodded - as if that were the answer she were expecting - and she continued to cry, silently.  
  
Fëanor went straight for it. "You loved her, didn't you?"  
  
"I did." Indis's jaw trembled. "We cannot speak of it, it is against the Laws -"  
  
Fëanor felt like yelling _fuck the Laws_ , but the pain on Indis's face made him keep that impulse in check. Now was not the time to argue. "But you did."  
  
"Very much."  
  
Fëanor resisted the urge to ask about the man he had seen in his vision. Now was not the time for that, either. And it could potentially be useful as a weapon against Finwë, if...  
  
 _If what?_  
  
Fëanor didn't know what, exactly, just a small sense of foreboding.  
  
"Your father will be here in the morrow to see the baby," Indis said, changing the subject. "You should try to rest, when he is done suckling."  
  
"Is Nolofinwë coming?" Fëanor asked hopefully.  
  
Indis shook her head. "He is staying with Ingwë right now... preparation for the eventual wedding to Anairë. Getting to know the bride, pass muster with her father..."  
  
Fëanor felt the hot, sharp surge of resentment. "How convenient," he gritted out. Of course Finwë would want to shuffle Fingolfin off as he knew the time was approaching. The thought that he might have died without seeing Fingolfin again...  
  
Indis seemed to sense his discomfort. "Try to relax, Fëanor."  
  
And then the door slammed open and Nerdanel and Finarfin walked in. Nerdanel was carrying a tray of lemon cake and Finarfin snatched it out of her hands and ran up to Fëanor with it. "CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE," Finarfin yelled. He didn't even bother to cut a piece properly but ripped one off with his fingers and shoved it in Fëanor's face.  
  
"Arafinwë Ingoldo Finwion, where are your manners?" Indis scolded.  
  
"Right," Finarfin said, and then he tore off a piece of cake with his fingers and shoved it in Indis's face. "You get cake, too."  
  
Nerdanel shook with silent laughter, as Fëanor's face burned, knowing he looked a sight dishevelled from giving birth, and now with cake and icing all over his face. Nerdanel took back the tray of cake and cut proper pieces for Fëanor, Indis, Finarfin and herself.  
  
"I helped," Finarfin said.  
  
"That was very nice of you," Fëanor said.  
  
"I wanted to make you feel better. I could feel how scared you were." Finarfin made a face then. "It smelled funny, too."  
  
Fëanor and Nerdanel looked at each other - Fëanor raised an eyebrow. It was a bit soon to be able to tell, but the sense of scent tended to be the first to develop, and if Finarfin could smell Fëanor's distress he almost certainly was going to be an Alpha when he grew up.  
  
Like their father. Like Fingolfin.  
  
"That's a nice baby," Finarfin said, looking at the babe in Fëanor's arms.  
  
"Yes. Yes he is," Fëanor said, and gave the baby to Nerdanel to hold. He got choked up as Nerdanel held the baby for the first time, not able to restrain her tears, smiling as she cried.  
  
"Ingoldo, dear, we should get you back to bed and let Fëanor rest," Indis said. "He's had a rough time of it."  
  
"Awwwwww, OK." Finarfin got up, and then he paused before Indis could lead him out. "Mother, may I bring Fëanor something from my room?"  
  
"Be quick."  
  
Finarfin shot off like a bolt of lightning and when he returned he had a cloth doll in his hands - a lion. He climbed onto the bed and thrust the stuffed lion into Fëanor's arms. "This helps me get to sleep," he said. "You can borrow him."  
  
Fëanor hugged his youngest brother, touched by the act of generosity and caring. "Does he have a name?"  
  
Finarfin nodded solemnly. "His name is Ára, because when it's dark and I'm scared, he reminds me the light will come back tomorrow."  
  
Fëanor felt a tight lump in his throat. He tousled the silver-gold waves, pressed a little kiss to Finarfin's brow. "Thank you, brother." _Precious._  
  
Finarfin beamed. Then Indis picked him up off the bed. "Bedtime now," she said, then, "You were supposed to already be in bed."  
  
"I know, but Fëanor was _scared_. And he's never scared of anything. He's my hero." Finarfin pouted.  
  
Fëanor wanted to scream, raging inside at Finwë keeping his brothers from him. Indis gave Fëanor an apologetic little smile as she carried Finarfin off.  
  
Nerdanel and Fëanor sat with the baby for awhile - Fëanor did need his rest, but it could wait a little while yet. They marveled at the baby's tiny pointy ears, the perfect set of tiny fingers and tiny toes, every movement the baby made, every breath he took.  
  
"We make nice kids," Fëanor said.  
  
"We sure do." Nerdanel gave him a kiss.  
  
"He should have brothers, someday, like my brothers." Fëanor smiled fondly. "My brothers are amazing."  
  
"Fëanor, you just endured a very difficult childbirth, you had to be _cut open_. Let's not talk about you making more babies right now."  
  
"It might get easier," Fëanor said. "And I liked being pregnant -"  
  
Nerdanel put a finger to Fëanor's lips. "Get you to sleep."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Fëanor was woken more than once throughout the night to feed the baby. He found himself famished, after what his body had gone through, and grateful the cake was right there. Nerdanel woke up to feed him, since Fëanor barely had enough strength to sit up.  
  
Finwë came in the afternoon, as did Mahtan and RAWR. Fëanor made it a point of giving the baby to Mahtan and RAWR to hold first, which drew a sharp glare from Finwë. Fëanor didn't understand why Finwë was reacting that way, considering he hadn't even approved of Fëanor being pregnant, or by Nerdanel, or any of this at all.  
  
"Have you decided on a name?" Finwë asked as he was allowed finally to take the baby, seeming to examine him rather than actually cradle him.  
  
"I will call him Maitimo," Nerdanel said.  
  
"And I will call him Nelya," Fëanor said.  
  
"Nelya." Finwë rolled the word around in his mouth. "So Nelyafinwë, then?"  
  
 _You have some fucking nerve._ Fëanor looked over at Mahtan and RAWR, who were staring daggers at Finwë, seeming to share that reaction. Mahtan and RAWR, who had gotten past their dislike of Finwë to go over to his home and ask for Indis to come and help deliver the baby. Fëanor had a feeling if the situation was reversed, Finwë would have just not asked for the midwife and would have let him die, in his pride. Mahtan and RAWR were more parents than Finwë would ever be.  
  
"No, not Nelyafinwë," Fëanor said. "Nelyaraurë."  
  
RAWR's eyes widened, and their laughter rang out. Mahtan smirked.  
  
Finwë thrust the baby at RAWR, and then he seized Finarfin's arm hard enough for Finarfin to yelp. "We're going home now," Finwë said.  
  
"Can't we stay a little longer?" Finarfin pleaded.  
  
" _No._ "  
  
"YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SO ROUGH WITH THAT KID," RAWR said, getting in Finwë's path, and then they added, not able to help but take the shot as it presented itself, "OR YOUR ELDEST, EITHER."  
  
"I'll thank you to stay out of it," Finwë said, giving RAWR a filthy look. He gave RAWR a little shove.  
  
"They're right," Finarfin said. "Why do you hate Fëanor so much? You're so mean! You act like a big poopyhead!"  
  
" _Arafinwë,_ " Finwë snarled through clenched teeth, "you will not disrespect me, and you _especially_ will not disrespect me in front of my subjects."  
  
Mahtan snorted, and RAWR rolled their eyes.  
  
Finarfin stamped his feet and wrenched his arm away from Finwë. "You've been even meaner since Fëanor got pregnant. Nerdanel put her thingie in his you-know-what, so what?"  
  
Finwë's jaw dropped, stunned. Fëanor let out a howl, not able to stop himself.  
  
"WHICH OF YOU FILTHY DEGENERATES HAD THE TALK WITH MY SON?" Finwë bellowed.  
  
Nerdanel raised her hand and gave a guilty grin.  
  
"We're leaving _now._ " Now it wasn't Finarfin's arm that Finwë grabbed, but his hair. Before RAWR could grab Finwë, he marched out of reach. As they made their way outside, Fëanor heard Finarfin cry out, "But _my lion_! I let Fëanor borrow my lion, _I need to get my lion_!"  
  
"You shouldn't even have him at your age," Finwë scolded. " _You don't need him_."  
  
Fëanor swallowed hard. His fists balled up. That more than anything enraged him - he could feel his little brother's anguish, losing something so precious to him. And before he could offer to give it to Indis, now she was gone too. If he wasn't so exhausted from giving birth yesterday, he'd run out there and...  
  
The urge to do violence to his own father terrified him. The strong protective urge he had towards Finarfin terrified him. He knew that the chemicals in his body from childbirth were making him want to protect his family and hurt anyone who stood in his way, but it wasn't very comforting knowledge right now.  
  
 _I will get you your lion,_ Fëanor vowed to himself. He knew that seeing Finarfin from now on would be easier said than done - Finwë already seemed determined to keep them apart, much moreso than Fëanor and Fingolfin; after today it would be worse. But he would visit Finarfin somehow, and return that lion if it killed him.  
  
"What a mess," Nerdanel said, taking the baby back from RAWR. Maitimo spit up on her then as if to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> The name Ára, which Finarfin gave to his stuffed lion, means "dawn".


End file.
